


A Force of Nature

by jessicaannsavage



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicaannsavage/pseuds/jessicaannsavage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The big strong chantry boy in absolute awe of his tiny mage girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Force of Nature

The staff spins effortlessly in her hands. Her slender elven fingers dance across the wood before wrapping tightly around it and bringing it to the ground with a thump. He watches, enthralled by her nimble movements. His eyes flit between the Inquisitor and the dummy across the yard. With ease she spins on her toes while her hand guides the twirling staff behind her back. 

It’s a dance, he thinks as his finger trails across his scar absentmindedly. A quick paced dance of life or death, but a dance. 

Every movement is fluid, smooth, uninterrupted, like rushing water to the sea. She does not stumble, nor does she slow. His eyes are glued to her now as she becomes a blur. There’s no separating the staff from the Inquisitor, he realizes. In this moment, they are one, like the fusing of wind and sea during a hurricane; inseparable and unstoppable- a relentless force of nature. 

With a twist of her wrist she spins the staff and slips it onto her back. Though he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, he can’t bring himself to look away as she sashays towards him, victorious smirk on her face. 

“Impressed, Commander?” 

Her arms fold across her, and her hip juts out as she settles in front of him. 

“Yes. Impressed you didn’t hit yourself with it.” he teases, a half smile stretching out his scar. 

Her laugh causes him to swallow hard and shift his weight, and he hopes to the Maker that she can’t see the red in his cheeks. 

“Want to know the truth?” she asks as she turns to stand beside him, casting a look over at his cocked brow.

“Preferably.” 

“I have hit myself with it. Dead center of the forehead.” she smiles. He can’t help the laugh that escapes him, but he’s relieved when she laughs too.

“What happened?” he asks, eager to hear her symphony of a laugh again.

“I knocked myself the fuck out.” 

His snicker is cautious, but when he sees her lips break over her teeth, like the sea against the staggering cliffs of the Storm Coast, it turns into a rumbling laugh. Their laughter fades, and for a few moments they stand and listen to the striking of swords and the whistle of the wind.

“Once, when I had just joined the templars, I misjudged the weight of a shield that was on the ground” he finally whispers as he leans towards her, his hooded eyes and mischievous grin masking his nerves, “It smacked me full force in the face and knocked me flat on my bottom.”

He finds himself short of breath when he hears her laugh again, like the flutter of flutes and vibrato of violins in his ears. There’s a wild quality to it, like the shivering of leaves in a storm. He can’t tear his eyes from her, despite the rolling in his stomach. Her eyes like the ice that sits atop a lake, and her hair like the snow that piles up outside of his door. She’s a storm, he decides. A winter storm that he longs to be ravaged by.


End file.
